Farewell, My Friend
by Serra Lynn
Summary: Pippin's thoughts as he watches Boromir fight his final battle. (vignette based on the movie)


** Title:** Farewell, My Friend (1/1)   
** Author:** Serra Lynn   
** Rating: **PG (no graphic language or violence, just an overall dark scene)   
** Summary:** Pippin's thoughts as he watches Boromir fight his final battle. (vignette based on the movie)   
** Distribution:** If you're interested in hosting the story, just ask -- I'll probably say yes.   
** Disclaimer:** _The Lord of The Rings_ was created by J.R.R. Tolkien, and is the property of the Tolkien Estate. The movie version is property of New Line Cinema. No copyright infringement is intended, nor is any money being made from this story. It is a work of fan fiction, and as such, is intended solely for entertainment purposes.   
** Notes:** This is the first story I've written in quite some time, so there are probably a few flaws. It's also a bit darker than I had originally intended, but once I started writing, the story took on a life of its own. Comments -- especially constructive criticism -- are greatly appreciated! 

* * *

**Farewell, My Friend**

It takes several moments for the words to register in my mind: "Run! Run!" 

But as I watch the scene unfold around me, I know in my heart that I cannot run -- not until I am sure that Frodo is a safe distance away. 

From the corner of my eye I see that Merry has reached the same decision, as we are now standing with our feet firmly planted, hurling rocks at the strange creatures in front of us as quickly as our arms will allow. 

_I hope this is of some help, Boromir._

Just as the thought leaves my mind time seems to stop all around me. Indeed, I feel my arm halt in mid-air as I see an arrow fly from somewhere off to my right. 

I feel my eyes grow wide as I watch the arrow pierce Boromir just below his collar. They grow wider still as he staggers to his knee, rights himself again, turns and fells another of the seemingly endless army of attackers. 

My feet feel as though they are rooted to the ground. It's as though I'm watching a dream when a second arrow pierces the air and finds its mark somewhere below the Man's ribcage. 

This time the valiant warrior of Gondor sinks to both knees. All I can do is stare at him as he lifts his head and meets my astonished gaze. I feel as if his eyes are boring into my very soul. 

What's this? He's not ... He can't be ... He's standing up again? 

_No, Boromir! Don't do it! Stay down! They'll leave you alone if you stay down!_

My silent pleadings go unanswered as he again staggers to his feet, turns and plunges his sword into another one of our aggressors. 

Why, in the name of all that is good, is he doing this? Why is he using his body to shield us? He pledged to protect Frodo, not ... 

An all-too-familiar sound brings my attention back to the battle before me. My vision comes back into focus just as a third arrow impacts with Boromir's chest. 

_Come on, you cowardly Took! Do something!_

Pressure builds in my chest and rises up my throat. As I force my brain to tell my feet to move, I see Merry run past me, sword waving above his head. He unleashes his best imitation of a dwarven battle cry as he charges our opponents. 

I, too, draw my sword, muster up my best impersonation of Gimli, and charge ... right into the open hand of one of the creatures. 

_A fat lot of good that did, you foolish Took!_

As my captor lifts me off my feet by my throat, I struggle to regain sight of Boromir. He hasn't moved -- he is still kneeling on the ground; three arrows angrily protruding from his torso. 

As the creature that holds me falls in line behind the others I struggle to keep the Man of Gondor in my line of vision. I stare at him, refusing the urge to blink, until he is nothing more than a blur in the distance. 

When I can no longer see him, I close my eyes, allowing a wave of unbridled agony to wash over me. Tears well up behind the closed lids, and I don't bother to wipe them away as they begin to seep out and roll down my cheeks. 

I know that, even if Strider and the others do find him, there's nothing they can do to aid him now. The Fellowship has lost another. 

Through the teary haze that blurs my vision I see Boromir's face in front of me once more. 

"Farewell, my friend," I whisper to the apparition. "May your soul find the peace it deserves." 

**_-- End --_**


End file.
